Even the Willow Branch Snaps
by Kariotic
Summary: A one-shot starring Mama Schnee (I landed on the name Willow for her, pls don't be deterred by the OC tag) working through some pent-up feelings that have been bothering her throughout her marriage to Jacques Schnee. Rated T for harsh language, may be subject to change if need be. Streamed writing around August 22 2017


**(Author's Note: I wrote this One-Shot because I needed something to get me out of my writing block funk. So, I took a shot of bourbon and got to writing off the top of my head. I almost forgot how fun writing could be, and this definitely helped spur some energy in both my fanfiction and original work writing. I also streamed me writing this, and if you'd like to join me and a couple others in that PM me for a link to my T-witch. I hope you enjoy reading this fun little thing I made!)**

Willow Schnee was fucking _tired_. She calmly placed the wine flute that was once filled to the rim with Atlesian Rose. Her dainty fingers traced the flute's rim a few times as she mused drunken thoughts in her head. It was another one of _those nights._ She didn't know just how long she'd been able to keep it all pent up for this long. After Winter graduated, she thought things would lighten up. Of course they fucking didn't. Who other than Jacques would sour that wonderful day by yelling and brashly whining about how Winter was supposed to be the heir to his empire.

 _Empire this, Empire thaaat_ , Willow turned to see her glass being refilled with even more Atlesian Rose. The light pink ambrosia of the gods, it was. She took another sip of the drink, rolling her eyes as she began to embrace the familiar buzz of intoxication. However did she let that _cretin_ of a business man into her home, into her life? She was a Huntress, one of Atlas's best. Then _he_ had to come in and pester her so much.

"No, no dear!" He would say idiotically, condescendingly. "You're a Schnee! You know that your face stands for the life of m— I mean, _our_ company. What would the Council, nay, the _people_ think if one of their leaders was barbaric enough to use force like that? No dear, we must choose _business!_ "

 _Fuck the business_. Willow Schnee was tired of that. _Whatever happened to family?_ Winter was now an accomplished Lieutenant in the Atlesian Army, Weiss had recently graduated from Beacon Academy was currently on her commencement mission. Even Whitley came to realize how crazy his father's schemes had become and distanced away, taking his inheritance early and running away to start a new business in Mistral.

Oh, Jacque was not happy about that. No, no, no. Not one bit.

"He cannot be _serious!_ " Jacques raved on and on like the overgrown man child he was. Dust-damn it, did he have something to complain about _every night?_ "I can't believe this! H-he's _stolen_ from _me!_ "

Willow took a sip of her wine. Her dinner virtually untouched, though that was normal. She sighed inwardly, rolling her eyes at her husband's idiocy.

"Well," She spoke up, "I think he's done a marvelous job. He has an interesting strategy that would definitely cause some stir among the youth in Mistral." Stir it would indeed. Not too many Schnees would have found interest in the realm of food service. Unbeknownst to Jacques, Whitley had totally changed his name to something else, though he didn't let his mother know. She was fine with that; the less chances of her even looking at the cocky little shit she had to give birth to, the better. All Willow caught was from scribbled ideas in his notebooks was that he was going to make a chain restaurant that used scantily clad women as servers and hiring decent cooks to give customers a second reason to revisit them.

"He said he wanted to call his business idea _Bae-o Wolves_." Willow said over another sip of wine. Kids and their slang these day, huh? It was kind of clever, as the waitresses would wear barely covering bikinis that were Grimm themed.

" _Bay-of-Wolves_?" Jacques repeated incorrectly. What a ninny. "He's still going to cater to Huntsmen's desire for manufactured goods and weapons! Amazing!"

 **. . . . .**

Willow Schnee was tired. She sighed as she brought herself out of the memory from last week. Jacques was still upset at the fact his "last hope for the company" went behind his back to make his own name. A small hiccup burst from her lips, then a short giggle at the supposedly uncouth mannerism. Jacques would always point out how unladylike she was at the table _every time she burped._ And it wasn't even that often. Her giggle and smile ceased after remembering that. She glowered softly at the once-again empty wine flute as she was reminded of yet _another_ annoyance provided by, who else, _fucking Jacques_.

"A _huntress_!" Jacques cried, as if the world revolved around him, even though it didn't. Truly, it revolved around a bottle of Atlesian Rose, but Willow supposed her husband ( _blech_ ) was too dumb to realize that. "She was supposed to take the company after me! She was supposed to just be in Atlas for two years before I pulled her out to work here! Damn it!"

"That's…" Willow mulled over some, you guessed it, Atlesian Rose. "Not very encouraging of her desires."

"It's not her desires that are important." Jacque declared, a tear of misplaced pride rolling down his cheek. "The company must live on! Our _name_ must live on!"

"Schnee, more like…," Willow took another somewhat graceful sip of her drink. "Gesundheit." She let out a quiet giggle at her own joke, before another hiccup came up.

"Willow dear," Jacques turned to his wife with apparent disgust. "That's incredibly uncouth."

"You're incredibly fucking uncouth." Willow responded, taking another sip of her wine. She could just make out the laughter coming from the kitchen; possibly the cake butler. That was the only chef that was allowed to have fun here, anyway.

Jacque would eventually come to terms with Weiss attending Hunter training, all the way to letting her attend Beacon Academy in Vale! It had actually been rather quiet after that.

 **. . . . .**

Willow Schnee was really fucking tired. She was on, what, her third glass?

"Ninth, madam." Said the blurry man holding the empty bottle of Atlesian Rose. The God Juice! The Pink Ambrosia! The Sweet, Sweet Release from – Willow's Scroll vibrated with a notification. It was from Jacques, or as he was notably named in her Contacts, BabyMan McDumbFucks.

WE MUST MEET NOW, IT IS URGENT!

Begrudgingly, Willow Schnee dragged herself off her seat and away from the bar in the sweet-ass lounge area in the Schnee's waiting room. Lots of mansions have waiting rooms, this was hers. Whole collections of Atlesian Rose lined the walls in shelves that numbered in the hundreds. This was her happy place. How _dare_ he make her leave it!

She stomped heavily and not in any coherent matter that meant in a straight line. She stopped just before Jacques's office doors before knocking.

"Who is it?" His pussy-ass, no-good, shit-for-sense voice sounded through the wood. _Who is it?_ Willow repeated. _Wha-WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT IS?_

"Me, Jacque." She answered, allowing the anger to be saved for another bottle later that night.

"Solana?" He queried a ridiculously idiotic answer, as expected. "Yes, what is it?"

Wha- the MAIL WOMAN? WAS THIS MAN IDIOTIC OR JUST PLAIN MAD? It's like he was actually _trying_ her patience. Her not-so-sober patience. Sick and tired of this pansy-ass shit, Willow slammed the door wide open with a kick that would make most high-heeled shoes break. Except hers, that is. Damn it, she cared about getting good shoes.

"W-Willow, dear!" Jacques exclaimed out of appropriate fear. "That's incredible unreasonable behavior!"

"What is _so_ important, Jacques," She seethed, saying his name was like trying to pushing poisons off her tongue with teeth. "That you had to bring me out of my office and ruin my personal time?"

"Weiss is marrying!" Jacques held up then threw a newspaper at Willow, who barely caught it and was squinting to read the blurred lines of ink. "In _this_ sort of economy, no less!"

"She's getting married in Vale, so she'll have no real impact on our economy, Jacques." Willow's vision seemed to clear as she read the article's contents. "'Miss Schnee as announced that she will be marrying her Huntress team partner Blake Belladonna. Both Huntresses are highly accomplished and well-celebrated heroes in the scope of Beacon Academy.'" She looked further down the paper to see a picture of her daughter and her beloved Faunus fiance. "Surely Jacques, this helps to ease the divide between the Schnee and the Faunus!"

"No!" Jacques stood defiantly, stupidly. "This cannot stand! She must return here and take my place at the head of this company! She cannot be allowed to ruin my family name any longer!" _Your family name?_ Willow's eye twitched. "I cannot allow my daughter to stoop so low as to marry some criminal filth and defile herself as a Huntress! We must stop her!" _Your daughter?_ Willow felt her neck crack. "Uh, dear, you're looking at me weirdly. Is there something wrong?"

" _Your_ family name? _Your_ daughter?" Willow screeched. "I am tired. I am SO. FUCKING. TIRED. Of your _bullshit_. You married into this family, asswipe. You have _my last name_. My family held the Semblance you love to brag about so much. You have no say over what I will do, or what our children will do. Weiss is happy, happier than I have ever seen her, and you want to snatch her back and say she's wrong? Because you need her to run our company?" Willow laughed hysterically. "It's _your_ company, and it's utter shit, Jacques."

"W-what?" Jacques shrunk in his office chair at the pure ferocity at which Willow was pelting her words. "H-how c-coul—"

"We've—no, _you've_ been losing money working with the Schnee Dust company for the last decade! And yet you've been too fucking blind to see just how stupid every 'executive' decision you make is." Willow took a moment to catch her breath. "You are garbage, Jacques." She let that sink in for a moment, ready to catch and throw back whatever he was about to say to her. " _What."_ He simply blinked, preened his ugly-ass hair and suit before speaking.

"I reviewed our budget." He stated simply gesturing to some notes on his desk. "It would seem we will need to cut off the funds to this Atlesian Rose Winery you keep investing our Lien into."

Willow Schnee snapped.

 **. . . . .**

It was the greatest sight. Men, women, and children marveled at the wondrous view of a man in the distance being chased out of the main city of Atlas by bright, white Deathstalkers, King Taijitus, and Amphitheres. They didn't attack any civilians or buildings, they simply ran the lone man out of the city limits.

Willow Schnee was tired. She needed a good rest. But first…

"Klein, fetch me another glass of Atlesian Rose!"

 **END**

 **(If you can't tell, I hate Jacques and Whitley Schnee.)**


End file.
